Where The Comma Goes.com

Natasha fights the First Annual battle

2007-07-12T08:56:00.000-05:00

One of my former students, Natasha, has started blazing a trail in the copywriting business. She gives me way too much credit for starting her on this journey. She was born with a great gift, and she is one of the proofreaders for my posts.

I'll post soon about proofreading tips--because it's as important as any writing tip.

Anyway, Natasha is in a big office in a big agency in a big city. She shares with me that she has been asked to write a radio spot about an event. Having gleaned the information from the event Web site, she is shocked to see the title contains "First Annual...".

She e-mails me in a panic. "I'm going to say something," she writes me, "because, after all, there is no such thing as a first annual."

Natasha is bright. And she is right. I don't recall drilling her on this, but she has come across this sticky-wicket, as every young writer does.

An event or occurrence can't be annual until the second time it happens, ideally 12 months after the first time it happened. After all, that's what annual means.

The first time, it's just FIRST or INAUGURAL. When next year rolls around, then call it THE SECOND ANNUAL.

I told Natasha to fight the good fight. I told her to tell her co-workers that the media they hope will cover the event will laugh at them (behind their backs of course), and their competitors who know better will think less of them. It will make an unprofessional impression.

That's never good writing.

Let Natasha's battle cry be heard across cyberspace. Death to FIRST ANNUAL. It's the right thing to do for the wrong thing to write.

Taboo # 3: You may not repeat words. Or may you?

2007-07-07T07:07:00.000-05:00

Okay, this taboo is perhaps the most dangerous taboo of all.

You see, one of the oddities about the English language is that it has very few exact synonyms. You really can't pluck out a word and plug in another one and mean the same thing.

But along the way, "You May Not Repeat Words" became a RULE OF GRAMMAR and that's what was drilled into our heads. (Don't miss the bottom of this post for the end of the story on rules of grammar.)

I was taught English Composition by nuns (and I've got the scars on my knuckles to prove it!). One day, my seventh-grade teacher, Sister Mary Christopher, assigned us a short story themed around a farm.

Being the budding little writer I was, I decided to use an emotional lightning rod and tell my story through the eyes of Bessie, the cow on the farm, and share a day in her life. I wrote my little heart out and turned it in.

Nuns are incredibly fast graders, living in a convent and all, so I got the story back the next day. With great anticipation, I awaited my paper, and when Sister Mary Christopher handed it back to me, my heart sunk. "C" was emblazoned across the front of my paper.

Opening it up, I quickly saw lots of red marks. Most of what I saw was down the left margin. She had written "You may not repeat words," "You may not repeat words." And she had circled every time I used the word "cow" to refer to Bessie.

Now, here's the thing about Catholic school. You don't just take your "C." You have to take your paper home and correct it and turn it in. You don't get a better grade, but the idea is you learn to correct your mistakes.

So, being the hopeful writer I was and wanting so badly to do it right, I sat down with my thesaurus (yes--I had a thesaurus in seventh grade. Go ahead and call me a geek.) and I came up with alternatives for "cow." After the first time I used it, I said things like, "cud-chewing farm animal," and "four-legged milk-producing mammal."

Wow. What a crazy thing to do with a language that has so few exact synonyms. By doing this, I was confusing my readers--giving them words that could have a different meaning from what I intended. I was giving them room to interpret what I was saying. After all, there is more than one four-legged milk producing mammal and more than one cud-chewing farm animal.

Talk about a clarity killer.

Thankfully, I learned better. I shed this bad habit after I got out of school and entered the real world. (Don't know if Sister Mary Christopher shed her bad habit. I'll have to look her up.)

The moral to this little story, and the reason to shed this taboo, is this: The best word to use is the one you mean. Even if you have to say it again.

The three taboos I've shared (beginning sentences with "and" or "but," ending sentences with a preposition, and not repeating words), need one final nail in the coffin. We learned these as RULES OF GRAMMAR. Here's the thing. They never were rules of grammar. Ever. What they were were syntax guidelines.

This means that the National Council of Teachers of English, decades ago, came up with what sounded like proper English usage. These guidelines got written into curriculum, and became interpreted as rules. Emancipate yourself from them. Set yourself free. And watch your writing precision soar.

Taboo #2: You may not end a sentence with a preposition--ha!

2007-06-30T10:44:00.000-05:00

Here's the second RULE OF GRAMMAR you learned in English Composition class that is doing you no good as an effective writer.

If you had an English Composition teacher like mine, you were told not to end sentences with prepositions. You remember prepositions, right? Those little words that connect a noun or pronoun to another word--at, in, on, by, to, of, with, from, about under, between. Okay, enough with the grammar lesson.

To not end a sentence with a preposition means we must rewrite the sentence to reposition the preposition. And that will almost always lead to awkwardness. For today's reader, awkwardness is an attention killer.

So, writing coaches are unmasking this taboo for the albatross that it is. And they have one of history's greatest communicators on their side. Winston Churchill knew the importance of being clear, and in a speech ended a sentence with a preposition.

After his oration, the media attacked him. Churchill shot back: "This is the type of arrant pedantry up with which I will not put."

I must insert a note here, an exception, if you will. To write or speak such things as, "Where do you live at?" or "Where do you work at?" is never acceptable. It's just bad grammar. "Where do you work?" and "Where do you live?" will always be correct and acceptable.

Occasionally, a preposition is a fine thing to end a sentence with. (Did you catch that?) This is especially true when it is a much more natural, much more conversational way to write than the awkward alternative of writing around it.

Done sparingly, most readers will never notice you ended a sentence with a preposition. What they will notice is your message. And that's every writer's goal.

Lesson 3: One main idea in a sentence

2007-06-24T14:51:00.001-05:00

In previous posts, I shared fundamentals of good clear writing. Lesson 1 was to write how you talk. Lesson 2 was to use small, familiar words. (Check them out if it's been a while since you reviewed these.)

Today is about keeping your reader engaged through sentence length.

When you were in school, your English composition teacher taught you about compound sentences, chastised you for run on sentences, circled problems with subject and verb agreement, and drilled you on rules for adding commas to keep long sentences grammatically correct.

No wonder you're confused.

Today, one of the best things you can do for clear, concise writing is to forget what your English Composition teacher taught you and stick to one main idea per sentence. What does that mean exactly?

Okay, let's review. A proper English sentence is composed of a subject, a verb, and an object. Right? (Trust me, it is.)

That's what makes up one main idea. One subject, one verb, one object.

So how long (or short) can a sentence be? Here's the guideline: 15 to 20 words per sentence. That's all you need.

BUT:

Should every sentence be 17.5 words long? No. That would put your reader to sleep. That would be boring writing.

The craft of writing involves varying your sentence length and mixing it up. Write a long sentence, followed by a short sentence. I call this the Morse Code Theory of Writing. Long. Short. Short. Long. Long. Short.

This gives your writing rhythm, or cadence, as creative writers call it.

How short can a sentence be? To be technically correct, all you need is two words: a subject and a verb. That's a sentence with impact.

For centuries writers have been writing these short sentences when they really want to make a sentence stand out. After all, the shortest sentence in the Bible is only two words long: Jesus wept.

How To Use This Tool

Long sentences are hard to follow. Check out this one-sentence excerpt from a self-help book I was asked to edit.

In the last chapter you developed your purposes, refined them with others who may be affected and took a look at what you are doing to make them happen and what you are doing to keep them from happening.

Word count: 39 words

Did you read that over several times? Or did you just give up? If you're like most of today's readers, you gave up. (I'll post about readers' attention spans next week)

The problem with the sentence is not that the information is complicated, it's that readers are asked to take in too many main ideas in one sentence.

So what do you do? You use a tool called The Meat Cleaver. Hack that sentence into separate parts, each with one, easy-to-understand main idea.

Here's the logical break:

In the last chapter you developed your purposes, refined them with others who may be affected (WHACK, here's where you slam down the Meat Cleaver) and took a look at what you are doing to make them happen and what you are doing to keep them from happening.

Now, here's the thing about The Meat Cleaver. Many times you have to do some fixing at the point where you chopped. Cauterizing is the big quarter word for it. Because your new second sentence can't stand on its own as is. So, do this:

Add an and before refined in the first sentence:

In the last chapter you developed your purposes and refined them with others who may be affected.

The new second sentence could look like this:

You also took a look at what you are doing to make them happen and what you are doing to keep them from happening.

Now the paragraph looks like this:

In the last chapter you developed your purposes and refined them with others who may be affected. You also took a look at what you are doing to make them happen and what you are doing to keep them from happening.

Word count: Sentence 1= 17. Sentence 2 = 24.

Sentence 2 is still a tad long for the guideline and can be tightened up with some editing and using reader-friendly contractions. (I'll post on contractions later--they really are okay to use.)

But isn't this new paragraph with one main idea per sentence easier to understand?

Even short sentences can be confusing if the main idea is, too. Like this one:

This is the consultant's revised report, quite different from the first one, which badly upset the task force.

Word count: 18

It fits the word count guideline, and technically it's a correct sentence. But it loses the clarity race. Because it has more than one main idea. What upset the task force? The revised report? Or the first one? The writer is the only one who would know.

The solution?

Bust it into two sentences, each with a main idea. Like this:

This is the consultant's revised recommendation. It is quite different from the first report, which badly upset the task force.

Word count: sentence one = 6 words. Sentence two = 14.

Those sentences are not dumbed down because the sentences are shorter. By taking out a comma and adding a period, those sentences are now clear. That's precision in writing. That's clarity for your reader. That's good writing.

A pair of tricky twins to keep straight

2007-06-20T11:35:00.000-05:00

As I was developing my writing workshop, I noticed a lack of confidence in so many managers sitting in the seats. They would get hung up because they wanted their writing to be perfect. One of the things they--and millions of other white-knuckle writers--got tripped up on was confusing pairs of words.

Writing coaches call these word pairs "Tricky Twins." No spell checker in the world can help out on this one.

So I gathered up the most common ones and tried to pass along a tip to remember which one to use when. (The nuns taught me these so well.) This month, I'll give the two that bring the biggest sighs of relief to my seminar attendees.

First, is Desert and Dessert. The first word is hot and dry, the second you eat after dinner. But how do you keep them straight?

Here's what the nuns taught me, and you can memorize this phrase, too.

There is sand in a desert. (One "s" in sand; one "s" in desert.)
We had strawberry shortcake for dessert. (Two "s"s in strawberry shortcake; two "s"s in dessert.)

I've never messed it up once I memorized that trick.

The second tricky twin I hear goofed up everywhere- in conversation, in writing, even on TV sitcoms. The two words are Eager and Anxious.

Eager means you are enthusiastic about something. Anxious means you have a sense of worry or uneasiness about it.

So when you tell your boss, "I am anxious to work on this project," you may be shedding light on an attitude problem you didn't know you had. Remember, anxious has its root in "anxiety." Telling your boss, "I am eager to work on this project" may get you the peach assignment.

My UCF students are grateful to me for this tip as they prepare their cover letters and hope to set appointments for interviews. "I am eager to meet with you and learn more about your opportunity" is a powerful - and more importantly an accurate - statement for them to make.

Watch for more tricky twins in future posts. Especially if you're eager to be less anxious about your writing.

A leave of absence explained

2007-06-19T11:48:00.000-05:00

I took some time off, as you can tell. I was blogging away and life kind of got in the way.

I had some tough issues to deal with surrounding an aging family member. Lawyers, real estate agents, moving companies, the Veterans Administration, and doctors consumed all my free time. So did sorting through four decades of family photos, generations of possessions, and a dog who couldn't follow to the Assisted Living Facility.

My friends, who had gone through similar experiences, described it best when they told me, "You're going through a new door but the hallway is hell."

The room, and its occupant, are both now settled. So I find myself with time on my hands and ideas in my head.

So, log on, blog on, and write on.

Taboo #1: starting a sentence with "and" or "but"

2005-11-16T15:58:00.000-05:00

Writing coaches walk a fine line. We are a teacher, of sorts, but much of what we do is un-teach. We deprogram today's business writers of the rules they learned in school.

One of my favorite parts of that process is the things writing coaches call the “Three Taboos.” These may take you back to seventh or eighth-grade English composition classes, and they are slowing you down and hindering your message. Let's unmask them for the myths that they are.

Today I'm unmasking Taboo #1, which is:

You may not begin sentences with “and” or “but.”

Remember having that beat into your head? Well, shame on your eighth-grade English teacher. Why? Words like “and” and “but” and “so” are called conjunctions, and we learned them as connectives. And that’s that beauty of them. They connect thoughts.

They guide today’s busy reader through material, linking one main idea to the next main idea.

Lest you think conjunctions at the beginning of sentences aren’t very professional, take a gander at the front page of the Wall Street Journal. Any issue will do. Count how many times this long-lauded publication uses this proven technique for keeping readers hooked. Last time I checked, I found no less than seven times “and,” or “but,” or “so” linked two sentences on the Journal’s front page.

If it's a good practice for the Wall Street Journal, it's a good practice for you.

Like any communication tool, you need to start sentences with connectives sparingly. But use them. And watch your effectiveness as a writer soar.

Lesson 2: Turn quarter words into nickel words

2005-10-21T14:53:00.000-05:00

What does subsequently mean?

Go ahead and think about it for a few seconds. I'll wait.

Did you say "next?" Or "later?" Or, did you say, as many people say, though they're incorrect, "therefore"?

Well, subsequently can mean next or later. Which is why you shouldn't write with a word like subsequently, or any other big word (called polysyllables by grammarians). You should use the exact word you mean. The way to do that is to take those quarter words and break them down into nickel words--by using next or later instead of subsequently, depending on which one you mean.

By doing so, you will be completely clear. You won't rely on your reader to interpret what you mean. That's precision in writing. That's clarity for your reader.

You see, in English, smaller words are almost always more precise. They are easier for your reader to understand, making your message more powerful. (And hey, smaller words are easier to spell, making it faster for you to write.)

There will always be technical and scientific words we must use in certain industries. Like my friend Brad, the physician, who will always have to say hemoglobin. Or my husband, who's in the utility industry, who must write with kilowatt. And my youngest brother, John, who writes software for missile navigation, will need the word semaphore. (That's a protected variable used to restrict access to shared resources in computer programming. Or so he tells me.)

If you have to use big words for technical stuff, you need to make doubly sure every other word you use is a small one.

What words do I mean? Here are some common quarter words that creep into complicated business writing:

Detrimental. Just say "bad," or "harmful."
Sufficient. A better choice is "enough."
Possesses. How about "has"?
Accelerate. Don't you mean "speed up"?
Numerous. "Many" is much clearer.
Utilize. Aaaarrrgggh. This one is my pet peeve. Just say "use."

Why are these smaller words a better choice? I'll give you the research to back up my claims. Since 1960, the working vocabulary of Americans has gone from 25,000 words to 10,000 words. There are many reasons for this, and the dumbing down of America, what most of my seminar attendees guess, is not one. Neither is the complete breakdown of our educational system, which is the second-most common comment I get.

My personal observation is there are two factors at play. One is that we have many more messages in many more media than we did in 1960. We can't take it all in as fast as we need to. Smaller words help us get through it faster. (I'll post about this in the near future.)

The second factor I believe to play a role is the inclusive nature of American culture. Unlike Asia, Russia and the Middle East, we have many different cultures in our society. And as our society becomes more diverse, our language becomes clearer so it can serve everyone.

I ask my English as a Second Language students in my college courses if they ever learned subsequently as part of English vocabulary. I have yet to have any one of them tell me yes.

If you spent a great deal of time in school building up your big vocabulary, take heart. You will always need it--to read bad writing. But you will never need it to be a good writer.

Lesson 1: Write how you talk

2005-09-10T18:45:00.000-05:00

If you really want to be the strongest, clearest writer you can be, it comes down to six things. I'll start with the one that is probably the most valuable: Use a conversational style.

You see, most of us are better talkers than writers. If we're in a conference room or on the phone with someone, we can do a great job of getting our ideas across.

But when we're sitting in front of our computer, we stare at the blinking cursor until we become a blinking cursor ourselves. We get stuck. We don't know how to write what it is we want to say.

How this tip works

Well, how would you say it? Just imagine you are sitting across the table from your client, your customer, your boss or whomever it is you're addressing your writing to. What would you say to them? Then, write it down.

I even suggest people whip out their cell phone and pretend to speak in it. And type as you talk.

Writing how you talk means shedding some of those antiquated writing phrases. Like:

Pursuant to our discussion should become As we talked about
Enclosed please find should become I've included, or, I've attached
Upon completion should become When you're finished

What to watch out for

There are some trouble spots when you write how you talk. One is that you may break grammar rules. Because even the best orators in the world will unwillingly slip into substandard English when talking off the top of their heads. A great example is political candidates. Even with all their training and education, they will crack under pressure and say, "I will be a president that..." when it should be "who," or "If I was governor..." and it should be "If I were governor..."

The second trouble spot is using slang. In casual conversations we may slip in a word or phrase that is maybe not the one we should use in a professional setting. For example, when describing how a co-worker was dressed for an awards banquet, we might say, "She was all blinged out..." and we might be better off saying, "She really dressed the part of an award winner."

But even if you make such mistakes when you're writing, you can go back and edit that out when you read it over. Because there isn't a faster way to pick up speed when you're drafting a document than to write it the way you would say it.

This tip sounds so simple, yet so many people don't think it's that easy. But good, clear writing - especially persuasive writing - should sound as if someone is having a conversation with you, talking to you one-on-one. It really is that easy. It should be your Writing Golden Rule.

And if you make it a common practice, you'll find it worth gold, too, in helping you increase your speed in writing and the understanding your audience will find in it.

The two comma rules you need to know

2005-08-11T10:14:00.000-05:00

Grammar is like golf, I tell people who ask me about getting better at it. You need to do it all the time. To be a good grammarian you have to work at it every day and practice it. If you don't, you'll lose it. In that way it is very different from riding a bike.

But memorizing the rules, keeping track of the guidelines, knowing the style preferences of whatever manual you choose to follow, is a daunting task for the average business writer. Heck, it's a daunting task for me, and I write every day.

So I try to boil down the most important grammar rules to the ones that will be needed the most by business writers. That way, today's multi-tasking workforce only has to be comfortable with Grammar's Greatest Hits list to make its writing as professional as it can be.

This post is about the rule on the top of the list. This rule will guide you to properly placing a good number of the commas you will use.

Correct comma use boils down to identifying essential and non-essential clauses. (Ring a grammar school bell?)

Knowing the difference is not really hard, especially with the memory tricks I'll share. And once you identify the different types of clauses, you will know exactly when to use a comma and when to leave it out.

Baby steps first. A clause is a group of related words that contains a subject (a noun) and a predicate, which is the part of the sentence that tells you what the subject does or what state of being the subject is in. In other words, it has a verb in it. It's a complicated definition for a very simple idea. It looks like this:

Stacy has handled the pressure of her new responsibilities well.

Stacy is the subject and has handled is the predicate. Got it?

Take another baby step forward.

An independent clause expresses a complete thought and can stand alone as a sentence. A dependent clause does not express a complete thought and cannot stand alone as a sentence. (I remember this by saying, "It is dependent on the rest of the sentence for meaning.")

Dependent clauses are the ones that have the comma rules tied to them for this post.

Okay, let's do essential clauses first.

An essential clause is a dependent clause that cannot be omitted from the sentence without changing the meaning of the main clause. Essential clauses ARE NOT set off by commas.

Like:

The magazine that came yesterday contains some stunning photographs.

How can you tell this is essential to the meaning? Take out that came yesterday and read the sentence again. What magazine are you referring to? There are lots of magazines on the table, so your meaning isn't clear. But adding the clause tells me which one you mean and is essential to my understanding your point.

Here's the memory trick:

Think of commas as tourniquets--adding them here would cut off the supply of crucial information to the rest of the sentence, just like blood flow would be cut off to an appendage.

Hey, I watch ER, so you'll have to forgive the gore.

So what about non-essential clauses?

This is a dependent clause that adds descriptive information but could be omitted without changing the meaning of the main clause. Nonessential clauses ARE set off by commas.

Like:

Her latest CD, which is an artistic departure, hit the charts in the Top 10.

The dependent clause here is added information. I know which CD the writer means because of the word "latest" in the sentence. So it's not essential to the meaning.

The tourniquet analogy will help you to remember this rule here. We can cut off this information with commas (word tourniquets) because it's not vital to keeping the main message alive. The main clause doesn't need the oxygenated blood supply to keep it alive. So this clause could wither and die.

This is a hard-and-fast rule and no one can argue the commas you use in these instances. There are subjective comma usage issues which cause lots of arguments, and I'll post about those in the future.

If you're looking for a good resource to all things grammar, go get a Gregg Reference Manual. I've had one since college and I wouldn't write from home without it. You'll have all the rules and definitions within an arm's reach.

But for now, become dependent on the tourniquet analogy because it's essential to you using commas correctly, which no one should call a non-essential skill. At least, not in my book.

Can't spell your way out of a wet paper bag?

2005-08-03T20:40:00.000-05:00

At the start of my writing seminars, I always ask the attendees what they want to learn in our time together. What is one goal they have?

I get lots of great answers and, thankfully, it pertains to the material I have prepared in their coil-bound workbooks.

But almost every time, I have one attendee who offers something like this: "I am a terrible speller, and I think if I could be better at it I'd be a better writer."

I love this comment more than any other in my entire workshop. Because I know I am going to make that person's day with research-proven information that may shed their anxiety and set them free.

"Okay," I say. "Let's deal with this one right off the bat. Here's the honest truth: Great spellers are born and not made."

There is silence in the room.

"Good spellers are good visual memory learners. It has nothing to do with intelligence, but a certain kind of learning skill some of us are born with when we enter this world," I say, citing the experts who have studied it.

I go on to explain to them that you can get on the Internet and find software and all kinds of things you can buy that promise to increase your visual memory. But I don't recommend these things to help with spelling, because it's not necessary.

There are other things you can do to compensate.

First, know this. If you were not born with the gift of strong visual memory and spelling is a struggle for you, you learn very well in other ways. And you can be a great writer. John Updike, a great writer, was an admitted horrible speller. What Updike did to overcome it is this: Each time he looked up a word in the dictionary (he wrote his best works before we had spell checkers), he put a little ink mark next to it.

When he looked up the word three times (and he could keep track with his ink marks), he wrote the word down and spelled it over and over until he memorized it.

You could do the same thing. This is what all those who struggled with spelling did to get through elementary school. They memorized the words they use the most frequently.

You can also rely on your spell checker. Because I firmly believe spell check was invented by an incredibly intelligent computer geek who couldn't spell his way out of a wet paper bag in grade school. (I didn't say "his or her way out of a wet paper bag" because there is a really good chance it was a guy, the tech industry being dominated by men and all.)

Even elementary school educators, whom I have talked with extensively about this topic, agree that strong spelling skills are increasingly less important with the proliferation of computers and spell check. (I will tell you not to trust spell check in a future post on proofreading, however.)

Professors I work with balk at me when I share my comments on spelling and its connection to visual memory learning. "People are just lazy," they say, "and don't want to look words up." Or, "It's because people don't read anymore."

Research doesn't back these comments up. It does back up the visual memory skills, however.

So, you spelling-bee-champ-wanna-bees, take note. And take comfort. You may only be a mediocre natural speller, but you can be a great writer in spite of it.

How long should a paragraph be?

2005-08-03T19:54:00.000-05:00

My friend Delanie in Atlanta checked out my blog and emailed me. After we bonded over the original 1959 series of Nancy Drew books (Delanie still has the entire set in hardback), she asked me a great question.

"How long should a paragraph be?" she questioned.

I'm glad she asked. Because this is another area where academia has steered you wrong. The nuns taught me, and I'm sure your teachers taught you, that paragraphs were long. The longer the better. Cover an entire subject in a paragraph and don't start a new paragraph until you change topics. Hence, the topic sentence. (To learn of the appropriateness of topic sentences in business writing today, see my post called "English gathers no moss.")

Well, pack this up with all the other useless, antiquated writing practices you've learned in your life.

The new paragraph looks much leaner and trimmer than its predecessor. So much so that the return key should be your new best friend.

The rule for today's business reader (and I hesitate to use the word rule, because so much changes so fast) is four lines maximum. Maybe you have to go to five or six if you're not at the end of a sentence after four lines.

But one-sentence paragraphs, two-line paragraphs, three and four-line paragraphs are the way you should go. Even if you wouldn't normally put a paragraph there.

You could say the new rule is anywhere you put a period you could put a paragraph.

Why?

White space. It is your friend. You should use it and over use it. White space is the most valuable tool reader-friendly communication can have.

Why?

Ever get an e-mail from someone who starts typing in the upper left hand corner and keeps typing and typing and typing through the entire screen until there is an endless list of words from sea to shining sea?

What's your impression of that email? Of the writer? Do you really want to read all that stuff? Do you feel overwhelmed? Do you think the writer spent any time at all thinking about what was being written? Or is the writer just rambling?

That's how everyone else feels, too.

Short paragraphs are essential in email because reading text on a computer screen is such a strain on the eye. White space breaks it up and invites the eye in. Short paragraphs are valuable in any other printed material, too. Because paragraph breaks give the reader a chance to stop, pause, take in the information, and then move on. It aids in understanding and absorption of the information.

So give that return key a hit, or two--to create white space between the paragraphs. Giving your text a break will give your reader a break, which will put you on a break-neck pace to reader-friendly print communication.

English gathers no moss

2005-07-20T14:27:00.000-05:00

This summer I have introduced my 9-year-old daughter, Kelly, to my first love: Nancy Drew. Being the obsessive person I am, we started with the first book, The Secret of the Old Clock, and just finished the second, The Hidden Staircase--in that order. They are above her reading level, so I am reading them out loud to her.

Nancy has been updated for the new millennium, just like Aunt Jemima and Betty Crocker. She has a cell phone and doesn't wear knit skirts and pumps like the youth sleuth I read about. (I don't know this firsthand but rather from the book review pages of my local newspaper.) I avoided the updated, modern Nancy Drew books and checked out the 1959 versions from our local library. I wanted Kelly to experience the Nancy Drew I grew up with.

I'm thinking now this may not have been the best idea.

As I read aloud to Kelly, I saw so clearly what I tell my business writing seminar attendees. And that is, "English is a very dynamic language. It is constantly changing and evolving." To illustrate the point in my seminars I give two dictionaries to two different members of the group. One dictionary is the Webster's I used in college (printed in 1982) and the other is a Webster's from 1998. "Look up the work 'icon,'" I tell them. And what do you think happens? The 1998 dictionary has the wood panel, religious drawing definition PLUS the symbol used to depict a computer program's function added. This is completely missing from the 1982 Webster's. The dictionary people did not make a mistake. That meaning of the word didn't exist in 1982. Just as blog is not in my 1998 dictionary. (I have Word 2003 and it flags blog when I write it in text. Another example of how fast the language changes.) In fact, English is so dynamic, your dictionary is outdated if it's five years old.

This is a very important lesson for those people who count the time past since they studied English composition and grammar by decades and not years. What you were taught as "proper" and "acceptable" in 1960 or 1970--and probably even in 1980 and 1990--is not the way you should write today.

Let me share an example from Nancy Drew. Here is a sentence from the 1959 book as Carolyn Keene wrote in the vernacular of the day. As we meet up with our heroine on page 98, Nancy is trying to get to a summer house across a lake by boat to snoop around for the Old Clock, and the fickle motor has left her stranded.

Nancy knew that the tank held plenty of fuel, for she had checked this before departing.

When I read this sentence out loud, I stopped and put the book down. I said to Kelly, "Wow. This is just not how we write anymore." She asked me what I meant, and I launched into my English-is-a-very-dynamic-language speech. She cut to the chase and said, "Well, how would you write it today?" I said:

Nancy knew the tank had plenty of gas because she had checked it before she left.

Kelly saw the difference right away. And I hope you do, too.

Why? It has to do with the reader-friendly aspect of writing. Your reader wants to get your message quickly, in as little reading as possible. Language that doesn't sound familiar to your readers' ears may not make it to their brains for processing.

Just because you learned to write a certain way 10, 20, 30, 40 years ago isn't a good enough reason to keep writing that way anymore. (Personally, I have met only two or three high school and college English teachers who teach how to write for today's business world. Topic sentences in paragraphs are still a lesson plan. And yet topic sentences are useless in the real world.)

The simple fact is, English changes with the society it serves. You don't have to like the changes. You don't have to agree with the changes. But you have to give in to them if you want to be the most effective writer you can be. The alternative is what happened to Latin.

Virtually everything I bring up in this blog has to do with reader-friendly issues. There is a great deal of research on what readers like, what they prefer and what turns them off. And most of the reader-friendly tools are best practices used by newspapers and magazines. I'll share those in future posts.

Learn from them and successfully publish. Or perish.

The Oxford comma is back

2005-07-14T20:09:00.000-05:00

Commas. Ah, the bane of every writer's existence. Even veteran writers have had to argue, explain, and justify their use--or non use--of the comma.

As a writing coach for hundreds of business people over the last decade, I can tell you what I think. The comma is the most overused piece of punctuation in the English language.

Not only that, it is the one piece of punctuation that has the most subjective decisions surrounding it.

Grammar is not all black and white. It is not always cut and dry. We call this style. And it makes the Type A personalities groan. "No," they say. "It's either right or wrong."

No, it's writing.

In future posts I will share with you the black-and-white rules of commas (because they do exist, really). But today's post is about breaking news about a certain use of the comma. (Who'd have thought punctuation was news-worthy?)

One constant argument around the little curclicue on the baseline involves what writers call commas in a list. Here are two ways to punctuate the same sentence:

My favorite typefaces are Palatino, Minion, and Albertina.
My favorite typefaces are Palatino, Minion and Albertina.

The difference betwen one and two is the comma before the and. (Grammar geeks would tell you this "and" is a coordinating conjunction.)

Half the people out there read these sentences and say, "Oh, the top one is right." And the other half say, "No, the bottom one is right." They are passionate and unwavering in their responses.

And they're both right. Because this is not a grammar issue, it's a style issue. One style book will tell you to put it in (like E.B.White's The Elements of Style) and another will tell you to leave it out (like the AP Stylebook). I love both books.

Well, now in my writing seminars I can't tell both factions they're right. Now it's not so clear cut. To understand the confusion, we have to go back in time.

Sentence Number One (with the comma before the conjunction) is more traditional. The comma in this place is called The Oxford Comma. (I learned this pesky comma had a name in the fabulous book Eats, Shoots & Leaves.)

If Oxford makes you think of centuries-old, ivy covered buildings in England, you have the right idea. It is formal. It's old school.

As the language evolved (dare I say became more American-ized?) writers began dropping this last comma. Newspapers, written by trained journalists and edited by grammar and style freaks, led the charge, and contemporary writers followed the trend that less punction is better.

There was a time (circa Ernest Hemingway) when American writers wrote complicated sentences, packed with punctuation. Then we relaxed a bit, became contemporary, and the Oxford comma became the exception rather than the norm.

The nuns taught me in grammar school the Oxford comma was standard English usage. My journalism professors in college taught me to drop it.

Enter the lawyers. (Shakespeare said it best, "First thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers.")

There was a legal case involving an inheritance. (This happened recently. I'm sure I could Google it and get all the details, but you could do that, too.) The exact details are not important, but in essence, the will was written something like this (I've inserted my siblings' names to protect identities that I don't even know):

I bequeth $90 million to be divided by my grandchildren Kevin, Joan and Peter.

No Oxford comma. Because it would only make sense that the rich grandma would want $30 million to go to Kevin, $30 million to Joan, and $30 million to Peter. That's fair, right?

Well, you don't know Kevin. He got a hot shot lawyer and contested. Said the granny all along meant for him to have $45 million and Joan and Pete to split $45 million. After all, his lawyer argued, the placement of the commas clearly separates Kevin from the other two and makes Joan and Peter a unit.

Go ahead and gasp. I did.

But here's the real wind-sucker. The courts agreed. Kevin got $45 million.

I don't really know what happened to the members of that family. But I do know that the Oxford comma has now been adopted by the Associated Press Stylebook. To a writer, particularly a journalist, this is the Bible. This is where we turn for answers. (www.apstylebook.com)

But, I also know not every paper is putting that extra comma in there. Papers can, and do, make their own style rules, even if they oppose AP. (Because of this, I pray for their salvation every night.)

As for me, I'm trying to change AGAIN. I always told my seminar participants and clients, "This is not a grammar issue. It's a style issue. Both ways are correct. You just have to pick one and use it all the time. Consistency is the key."

The rule I'm using for myself is that if the list of items has any legal implications at all (say for marketing writers who are composing sweepstakes rules), I am using the Oxford comma. But I can't sacrifice consistency. So I stick with the Oxford comma through that entire document.

You will have to come up with your own style on this issue--and stick with it. But you might be well advised to consult a lawyer first.

Are you glad the Oxford comma is back? If you never used it, will you? Let me know and I'll share the controversy in a future post.

Question marks and quote marks

2005-07-01T19:29:00.000-05:00

So my friend, Pedro, calls me today as I was recovering from mowing the lawn in the heat of the day. (I live in Florida and it's July, so this recovery is important.) My 7-year old, Patrick, runs outside with the cordless phone. "It's Pedro. He says it's an emergency."

Pedro does sound a bit panicked as I ask him, "What's up?" It's a punctuation issue, he tells me.

I get these calls quite a bit. All my friends know I'm a stickler, a geek, a punctuation princess. "Okay, what's the deal?" I inquire, switching to my editor mode (a much better mode than yard maintenance crew, believe me).

"We're doing the T-shirt for Challenge for the Children," he explains. This is a big project. A fundraiser with the support of a big name music group. He's been working on it for months. Years maybe. "And the type on the shirt says Are You Ready For The Challenge? We put quote marks around The Challenge. We're arguing about the question mark." And then he paused.

"Let me guess," I said. "Inside or outside, right?"

"Yes," he gasps in amazement. My friends are always amazed that I know what the question is before I even hear it.

That's because the questions are always the same. Grammar, style, usage questions are as old as time. Journalism schools have been grilling budding writers with the same usage exercises for generations because the problems never change. For the most part, the answers don't either. But sometimes they do. I'll post an entry on that, I promise.

So you can get a picture of the issue, Pedro is questioning two ways to punctuate his shirt:

Are You Ready For "The Challenge?"
Are You Ready For "The Challenge"?

"The rule is," I say as I go into reciting mode, "if the question mark does not pertain to the matter being quoted, it is OUTSIDE the quote marks. Since you're asking a question--Are you ready for the challenge?-- and The Challenge? (with a question mark) is NOT the name of your event, the quote mark is OUTSIDE. It does not pertain to what's being quoted."

Pedro is glad to hear this because he was right.

Then I throw him an option--and this is a good option, so you should remember it. "Why not putThe Challenge in italics?" I suggest. That way it's cleaner (less punctuation is always better, after all) and no one will be confused.

So it would look like this:

Are You Ready For The Challenge?

After all, quote marks are for things people SAY, not for phrases we want to stand out. (This is a pet peeve of mine and I audibly scream when people put cliches in quote marks.)

Pedro likes this idea, and he thanks me, hangs up and immediately hits the PRINT button for his final artwork to be delivered to the silk screener.

But what about other puncutation with quote marks? Easy.

There are two marks that ALWAYS go INSIDE quote marks:

periods
commas

That's it. And there are no exceptions to that rule. EVER.

It's just going to depend for other marks like:

question marks
exclamation points

That's when you have to stop and ask yourself what the mark pertains to. If it pertains to what's being quoted, it's INSIDE. If it's not, it's OUTSIDE. Like this:

Was the envelope marked "Confidential"?

See, here you have to visualize that ink stamp, and recall that it doesn't say CONFIDENTIAL? (Like it's up to whoever holds the envelope to decide whether they can read it or not.)

But, in this sentence, things are different:

The client asked, "Why hasn't the PC been repaired yet?"

See, the client asked a question, and you're quoting the client, so the question pertains to the matter being quoted. So it's inside for that question mark.

Here the sentence is a bit more complicated, but the rule helps you figure it out:

Why did Bob say, "You don't need to attend the meeting on employee morale"?

The speaker or writer of this sentence is asking something, but what he's asking about (the matter being quoted) is a statement, not a question. So the question mark does not pertain. Outside it goes.

This is one time the rules won't let you down, I promise. I can't say that for everything, and I will post about it very soon.

What are your questions? What trips you up when you write? Let me know and I'll address it in a future post.

Write on.

Welcome to my blog

2005-06-29T21:28:00.000-05:00

E-mail changed everything. No news there. For me-- a born writer-- it was a tool I embraced because it was one more avenue for my craft and passion. But for millions of professionals it was terrifying. Gone were the days they could just communicate over the phone or send correspondence with the assitance of the office Word Smith. The admin person who looked over everything before it went out went the way of the dinosaur and the mainframe computer. That's when my phone starting ringing off the hook. I had developed an 8-hour, hands-on training program for corporate managers and employees to show them the fundamentals of good, clear writing. I also demonstrated, and made them practice, techniques that would increase their speed, so they could spend less time writing, but mostly I boosted their confidence. And that's what leads to good writers.

I was lucky in many ways, because writing is one of the only things I'm really good at. I knew as a little kid it would be my vocation. As a bigger kid I was also lucky to be taught by nuns through seventh grade--tough women who were not afraid to teach grammar and drill you on the rules.

But the nuns have gone away with the mainframes, and too many of today's English teachers focus on teaching literature and not grammar. In essence, they are saying you can learn to write by reading. Hmmm. Isn't that like saying you can learn to cook by eating?

As any winning athlete will tell you, fundamentals are key. And grammar coupled with writing style (including structure, punctuation, word choice) is the fundamental all great written communincation needs.

So, here is my blog to help those who want it--the whole shebang or just a refresher. I will not make you learn grammar. I won't even bore you with too many grammar rules. I will share ways you can be a clear, to-the-point writer (of e-mail, of proposals, of thank you notes to your Aunt May) and spend less time doing it--mostly by avoiding the issues that cause grammar guffaws in the first place.

Here's how it will work. I'll post lessons of sorts. A topic-specific blog on reader-friendly writing. I'll also post a writer-on-the-street perspective and comment on the mistakes and misuses I see. And most importantly, how to recognize and avoid them.

I promise it will be fun. So log on, blog on and write on.